Curiosity
by Frightening Things
Summary: A curious boy from Silent Hill ventures beyond the church on occasion, this time getting more than he bargained for. Graphic, Pyramid Head x Leigh OC . Bad name, I know. Title was decided in a hurry.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Pyramid Head (wish I did :3), give credit to the creators of Silent Hill for that beast. ;) I do own Leigh, though. OC, created specifically to be one of the townspeople.

Anyway, **warning:** the following material contains yaoi/boy on boy/whatever other term you may have for it. It is quite graphic in nature, just giving you the heads up. Enjoy

Leigh cautiously stepped over the rubble, the worn-out soles of his aged sneakers gliding over the tips of protruding nails. He'd done so ever since seven years ago when he'd been playing in the streets of town and carelessly slammed his foot down on a rusty spike. The sharp iron had impaled his foot and he'd hobbled back to the church, wailing, with the nail still anchored in its bed of flesh. As a young boy his only concern had been the searing pain that clustered in his leg, but in retrospect he was lucky the siren hadn't begun to scream.

Now he treated every shattered piece of glass, every broken hunk of wood, every nail with the grace and heed of a cat. He was so silent in his motions that the townsfolk at the church required him to wear a small bell around his wrist to alert them of his presence. Especially around the elderly. Of course, whenever he ventured off of sacred grounds he never, ever wore the brass bell. On more than one occasion the boy had been forced to crouch among the piles of disregarded wood and trash when the shriek of the siren pierced the air and the exterior of the town blistered away to reveal the underlying horror. He had learned to hold his breath, catch his tongue… remain perfectly still. But on whim the wind would pick up and if that bell so happened to jingle, it would be the end of him.

Yet, after so many close calls in his seventeen years of existence it's quite a surprise that the only thing he watches out for is nails. He never quite pinpointed the reason why he would risk his life for curiosity's sake. Leigh would always bring something back to the others, something useful like discarded fabric or a weapon -- if he was really lucky, batteries-- to justify his excursions. Really though, he just wanted to probe the town. It was dangerous, yes; but, he had learned to handle himself well. It wasn't that he was an exceptional fighter, his triumphs were mainly restricted to the thin nurses that lurked in the dark corners of the hospital, their bodies lunging forward in sharp, jerking motions. He normally hit them with something repeatedly until their spasms ceased. Nearly everything else was of a calibre far too high for him, so he hid or ran. Ran fast, to be exact. He could outrun anything given a clear path.

The only thing that truly scared him was the giant figure that trailed his huge knife behind him. The sound of the tip of the metal dragging along the ground, pulling out a metallic whine, always caused Leigh to recede into the shadows. The encounters were rare, but even rare was too often. Which was ironic, considering that was one of the main reasons why he picked through the forgotten, decrepit ruins. He had three true motivations to scour the wreckage:

_To find others_, he thought to himself as he overturned a large wooden frame in an alleyway. Occasionally an outsider who looked just a little bit different from them would come into contact with his community.

_To know if this is the extent of my world_. He checked the corner of the alley, and when satisfied that it was clear, hopped onto the streets and began a quiet, leisurely walk up Crichton Street. He never voiced his disbelief with what the church taught, that would be a stupid, stupid move. He'd seen it once with a middle aged man when he was about twelve or so. Leigh couldn't remember what teaching he had refused to accept, but he had ended up on the church's doorstep, pounding on the doors when the siren came. The idea terrified him, so he never brought up the topic of an outside world, the idea that there was no God, and any other un-holy idea that may pop into his head. He just… found it so difficult to believe that he did just that -- he didn't believe it. Where else would the outsiders have come from? And lastly,

_To get a good look at Pyramid Head_, the boy with unkept black hair quoted the creature's nickname as he pushed it back, out of his blue eyes. He was thankful that his hair was black of all colours, not blonde or red, or some other vibrant beacon that stuck out when the lights went out.

He crouched behind a trash can when something seemed to fidget in the corner of his eye. No creatures swaggered through the fog, but if some of the men who scavenged the grounds caught him out here, he'd be put on strict surveillance. It was just a leaf, old and tattered, skidding along the pavement. He let his breath go after instinctually sucking it in, and went back to his previous thoughts. He had no clue why the tall, muscular body -- so human in its form-- with a pyramid-like metal prison placed upon his shoulders held such a fascination for him. His speculations lead to another concept the church considered blasphemy.

Leigh turned automatically on Koontz Street. He knew the town like it was etched on his back, unlike the others his age. The dark-haired boy had decided before he slipped out of the massive wooden doors to the church that he would go to the hospital today. It's not like he hadn't combed it over before, he just had the urge. Usually he'd explore the outer limits of town, try to find some road that didn't break off at a drop to oblivion.

He pushed on the doors with empty frames, the glass long broken to unlock them from the inside. Leigh gingerly stepped into the building, taking a quick observation of the abandoned lobby and the peeling wall paint. Nothing, baron. Just the way he liked it. Straining his eyes to see into the unlit hallway, he perceived no encounters as of yet. He stood, exposed, in the hall, wondering again why he was doing this. It didn't matter, he didn't want to go back and pray with the others. He didn't _ever_ want to go back and pray with the others. Leigh'd often considered the chances of survival if he stayed in town, knowing well enough that they were not in his favour.

Pressing his body against a heavy, weighted door, he urged it open, stumbling into the branching wings of the hospital. Twisting the head of the small, red pocket flashlight, Leigh streamed a small beam of light into the passage to his left. As he walked by the rooms, he tried the door knobs of each. It was like musical chairs. When the darkness came, the creatures that dwelled in it would enter and exit, often leaving doors jammed or locked; and when the darkness receded, the doors often remained in that state. On the third room, the handle twisted swiftly and the rectangular piece of wood sung open like it had just been oiled. It left Leigh a little bit uneasy. He'd been in this room before, but the frame had never granted him access so easily. Rolling this over in his mind, he became very uneasy. Still, he entered, knowing nothing was there at that particular juncture in time. Hoping nothing was there.

A gurney with sheets that had taken on the colour of a child's shirt that had been dragged through the dirt was resting diagonally in the outer right hand corner. Other than that, the only other objects in the room were a drip stand with a broken base that caused it to lean against the wall and a steel cart littered with needles pushed carelessly into centre. Approaching the instruments warily, he brushed his finger tips against the cold metal. When he got used to the cool, detached feeling of the cart and began to relax a bit, the familiar scream roared in his head. His body tensed and for a second did not move at all as the room around him began to flake away to reveal dark, blood-stained walls. Red hand prints now decorated the corner near the gurney which had assumed near-black blossoms of blood. The cylindrical hollows of the needles held small amounts of congealed substance. The change was a feeling he'd never get used to, and this one in particular. He was intelligent enough to not crawl around the hospital too often, and to make his visits brief. The hospital acquired maze-like qualities in the dark. Luckily, he wasn't too far from his exit, or else he may have stayed in the room and waited.

Poking his head out of the door, Leigh risked a quick glance around the hall. No… anything. Not that he could see much, but he could hear. The building was absent of the clicking of the nurses' high heels, no groans that came from deep within their throats. Wait… Only one sound, in the distance. He could hear a faint scraping noise. Leigh's heart began to jackhammer, and his skin instantly moistened with a thin film of sweat. He rotated his flashlight so it turned off, not giving the device the chance to betray his location to anything wandering by. The slight aroma of his sweat always concerned him. He'd heard tales told by "darkness veterans" that the creatures can only see and/or hear you, if that. Stench had nothing to do with it. But considering the fact that they encountered a great deal of monsters while working up a sweat being as discrete as possible, he wasn't so entirely sure about that.

Bringing his eyes to the ground, Leigh noticed a thin line etched into it by the Great Knife. His stomach contorted when he realized that it started at his room, and carved itself towards the exit. By all means and all senses, he should have retreated into the room and positioned himself by the door with the mangled drip stand. Yet, he didn't. This is what he'd been waiting for; in fact, it was priority. Perhaps the knot in his stomach was anticipation instead of fear. He wanted to catch a good glimpse of Pyramid Head some time before he died, if his death came quickly afterwards then so be it. He'd noticed a steady decline in his self-preservation when he went on these "adventures" and automatically linked it to his home-life.

The boy stepped out onto the unsteady line and perked his ears for the noise. It had stopped, which meant one of two things: Pyramid Head had also stopped or Pyramid Head had gone out of earshot. It bothered him that he hadn't heard the screeching of the knife outside the door when the world first turned. Maybe he was too caught up in fright, but it still seemed unlikely. Regardless, he followed the trail. Leigh traced it with his feet, careful to not so much as scuff his foot on the ground. And…

_It ended…_ he thought, bewildered. The imprint came to a halt a few feet before the door to the lobby's hall. He let out a short, rasping breath then caught himself. His hands flew to his mouth, hardly able to believe that he'd let that sound escape. Leigh's brain flew with a flurry of panic as he tried to piece together what was happening. Pyramid Head always dragged his knife behind him, there was no reason to stop. Not to mention, the mark was fresh, it hadn't been there for any length of time.

As his panic mounted, he resolved that he was not so death-driven as to die today, and he bolted for the door. Although his body slammed against it, it did not give way. He tried again, only succeeding in severely injuring his shoulder. The door was locked. Leigh quickly raked his head for an alternative route, and came up with one dismal answer: the back door. The belly of the hospital was notorious for hordes of nurses. Running from them was not a problem, it was running through them. Of course, that appeared to be the least of his worries. He rested, briefly in the utter silence, keeping his hands pressed longingly against the door while his shoulder throbbed.

A clatter.

A deafening clatter.

Paralyzing fear overtook him. He knew what loomed behind him, he could almost smell the breath. Leigh slowly craned his neck around to get his one good look at the well-muscled creature. His hands curled into fists against the door, bending one of his nails back as they scraped down the surface. The tip of the metal pyramid rested inches from the bridge of Leigh's nose. The pale seven foot body made no advancing movement, the Great Knife fallen to his side just beneath the hand that normally gripped it. Lost in a moment of confusion, Leigh immediately came to his senses and dashed to the right, hoping to swerve around the massive creature and head to the heart of the hospital. His sudden hurtle, however, was intercepted. Pyramid Head shot his arm out, crusted with blood, and wrapped it around Leigh's waist. With an effortless shove, the monster tossed him against the wall. His body impacted with a solid thud, his head snapping back to hit the cold surface. It didn't knock him unconscious, but it did disorientate him. Cradling the back of his head in his hand, Leigh looked up to what was before him. He found himself in a short moment of admiration of the monster, his startling stature. Ever since first seeing him before the church's steps as a child Leigh had considered him, in a twisted way, almost beautiful. He'd felt guilty for it then, but not anymore. That didn't stop the fear that pounded in his veins. The executioner leaned in, the blunt crook of his helm pressing against Leigh's face. With the same hand that thrust him against the wall, Pyramid Head grabbed a handful of Leigh's hair, lifting him off the wall he slumped against and tossing him face-first into the ground.

It didn't seem right. This wasn't how the creature killed.

A hand pressed the base of Leigh's neck, forcing his face to squish against the linoleum. The tip of the pyramid jabbed into his shoulder blade as he heard the jaunting movement of the executioner falling to his knees behind him. A sharp draw of breath was audible as long fingers slipped smoothly under the rim of Leigh's tattered pants then violently tugged at them. The sound of ripping fabric hit the air, and the remains of the jeans crumpled at Leigh's knees. Cold air pricked his flesh and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't discern how he felt at the moment. It's not that emotions were absent, it's that they were all there, screaming, competing, overwhelming the boy. He tried to lift his head to see what was happening, but as he strained his neck the creature only pushed down harder. His body writhed like a convulsing snake, only to have his motions stilled by Pyramid Head's hand painfully gripping his hip bone. Leigh closed his eyes, hot liquid pooling in them, running over his nose, and splashing onto the floor. A flutter of fabric, then a silent pause as the monster lifted his wrap crafted from the skins of victims. Leigh didn't try to look, because he wasn't sure he wanted to see. When the round tip briskly ran against his crack, Leigh's eyes shot open. He tried to squirm, fully aware of what was happening. Some men of the church had found back doors by which to have some "fun," so Leigh was well acquainted with what was going on at the moment. His state of shock had taken leave and the realization settled. Behind him, the executioner knelt, cupping the shaft of his cock with the hand not pinning the boy down. A small amount of thick grey liquid dripped from the massive head and splattered onto Leigh's body, sliding down to his entrance. Without the cooing words that men of the church used to calm the boy, to assure him it was alright, the creature forced the head against Leigh's hole. The boy yelped in pain and bit down on his lip, tasting the blood as it ran into his mouth. This encouraged the executioner, and he pressed it harder, the head slowly going in despite how hard he pushed. Leigh could feel cracks split open around the ring as the tip increased in width. Then it delved in suddenly, sliding in quickly after the head was accommodated. The feeling was a considerable relief compared to the initial plunge, but Leigh could still feel his entire passage burn as though someone had taken a match to it. The creature placed his hand on the boy's hip once more, to steady him as he prepared to pull out. The process was agonizing, it felt like Leigh's insides were being dragged out of his body, and they almost were. Another squirt of the grey opaque ooze filled the boy and when Pyramid Head slammed into him a second time, it was much less painful. Leigh breathed heavily, still crying, but silent now. Defeated, somewhat. Blood dripped from his entrance and collected on the ground, some streaming down his soft sack, then his hard dick where it dripped off the tip. The executioner released his grip on the boy's neck and instead placed his open palm on his back, forcing it to dip to the ground. Leigh could feel the head of his penis press against the dirty floor, rubbing against it as Pyramid Head thrusted in and out, cramming his cock all the way to the nook of his body. Despite what Leigh knew he should feel, he had to bite hard into his hand to keep the moans at bay. He longed for the abuse, and thrived on it. Leigh found himself tilting his ass higher to grant the creature better access, overwhelmed by the ecstasy of having the powerful monster violate him. He slid his arm down his body, trying to work around the limited movement that being pinned to the floor created and grabbed the pulsing shaft of his member. He could feel the veins popping out along the taut skin. The boy did not pump his hand, but instead maintained a firm grip on it while he let the powerful movements of the executioner's hips slide the dick up and down in the clenched fist. His legs felt weak and began to shake, almost collapsing as a white gob squished out of the small opening and plopped onto the ground. He moaned the entire time, rocking his body in rhythm with the creature's.

It was nothing like the church, not at all.

Although he was finished, Pyramid Head was not, and he continued to drive his hips into the boy, refusing to relent. As the executioner's movements began to change, grow faster and harder in nature, he lifted his hand off Leigh's back and gripped his hair, wrenching his head back. A deep sound resonated from within the helm as grey sloshed out of Leigh's hole and mingled with the blood on the ground. The creature pulled out slowly, a wet sound following the exit.

Leigh collapsed on the ground in his own blood and semen, unable to get up. He knew it was the end, he knew he should try to get away. He didn't want to. If that was the paramount of his life, perhaps it should be over. The metallic slice of the Great Knife jabbing into the floor caused Leigh to cringe and he anticipated the blade ripping into his body. It didn't happen. A minute must have passed, but for the life of the boy he could have sworn it was longer. He found the strength and motivation to prop himself up on his elbows and turn to see what was to become of him, a pathetic mess with red, white, and grey smeared from his stomach to his crotch. Pyramid Head towered before him, the knife firmly grasped, but resting at his side, his head tilted down to observe the boy who winced in pain as he tried desperately to get to his feet. The creature had no intention of helping him. Leigh stood up, staggering and leaning on the wall for support. He pulled his former-pants, current-rags up to his waist and held them there. Limping backwards, still in agony, he tried for the door that he knew to be locked. He backed against it and desperately cranked the door knob. It was futile, he knew it, but he felt obligated to try.

The creature tilted his head to the side as the world began to flip, darkness melting away and the fog billowing into the building. The executioner was gone, spirited away by the change. This time when Leigh turned the handle, the door swung open and he stumbled backwards into the lobby hallway. He hobbled out of the hospital, a red patch seeping onto the leg of his pants and dripping down his thigh, but subsiding nonetheless.

The ethereal light that filtered through the haze lit the town streets, but barely. Leigh slowly made his way down the steps, flinching with each sharp movement, his tear-stained face contorting. He didn't know where he was going or what he was doing, but he turned opposite to the church and started walking.


	2. Chapter 2

The second instalment because I got quite a few encouraging words. ;3 I love comments

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The boy's sweat-soaked hair clung to his face as he rifled through a drawer. He didn't know why his heart raced and his knees felt weak, like rubber bands supporting a thin torso. By all means, he was safe for now. Leigh had left the commercial district and headed for some of the housing areas, forcing the door open on a home that looked relatively untouched. He needed a place to sleep. The boy's limbs were so weary that they were sluggish to respond. Each action seemed to take a good few seconds to register, so when he found a musty, moth-bitten blanket and a small cubby underneath the stairwell of his new sanctuary, he curled up inside and went to sleep. He forgot the searing pain that made it difficult for him to walk. When he had woken, he was in a state of panic. Which was odd because to his memory, his sleep had been void of all dreams, all nightmares; but when his eyes fluttered he felt tiny glass beads of sweat open upon his body and a terrible sense of dread crash over him like a violent wave. Leigh's feet had pounded on the rotting stairs as he ascended to the second level, about to begin a frantic search for anything that would aid in his survival. He moved a Bible, with pages warped and yellowed by the perpetual mist, off a dressing table. Small knickknacks littered the faded wood stain; a small pocket mirror carelessly tossed to the side caught his eye. He didn't know why it intrigued him at first, it was only when he held the cold, forlorn item in his hand that he realized how useful it could be. To see around corners, flash light in places… He swelled with excitement and abandoned the white-knuckle panic he had woken up with. The small item, so simple, gave him much hope. It filled that black hole in his chest that screamed no chance of survival since he had first opened his eyes.

Maybe this isn't so pointless… he inwardly chimed.

He popped out the rest of the small drawers and dumped the contents on the floor. His shoulders sagged in disappointment. It was mostly small trinkets he would have been interested in not one day earlier, but now it was all useless. A necklace there, paper with things-to-do crumpled up and covered in the crud of the hollow, maybe some pencils… all useless. Still, he would not let it deter him. As he knelt on the dust-swept floor with his ripped and tattered jeans he realized that he hadn't really given much thought to what had caused them to be that way. His encounter with Pyramid Head had been taken in and let go like it was a trivial piece of information, but in retrospect he didn't resent it. He embraced it, because if that day had gone as it normally would have, he'd be kneeling in prayer right now. Instead he sat, cross-legged, on the floor with an array of jewellery and assorted baubles. Leigh picked at the remains of his clothing and decided it was in his best interest, mobility wise, to find some alternative wear.

Wincing as he raised his body off the floor, he went to explore another room that had perhaps been lived in by a male occupant. He didn't quite know why he had never ventured into the houses of the deceased, but he was pretty sure it was rooted in respect. On second thought, some people didn't deserve respect.

The third room he checked apparently did belong to a man at one point in time, a tall one. Thankfully as Leigh held the black denim out for inspection he noted that the man was quite thin as well. He pulled his clothes off, thought a moment, then discarded his bloody underwear as well. It would do him no good. He chose to do away with his T-shirt, as well. It had a few lengthwise gashes from when he was forced to the floor. Picking from the fabric he chose a long sleeved shirt that followed the same principle as his hair and jeans -- black and, therefore, hard to see. He pulled it over his already unruly hair and wrapped his arms around his small chest, enjoying the warm comfort of the cotton. He relaxed and yawned, covering his mouth with his thin, delicate fingers as he did so. It dawned on him how little sleep he must have gotten before he woke up in his state of turmoil. Rolling his condition over in his head, he realized he wouldn't be in peak condition if he was tired. So, clutching the mirror to his chest, and rolling up the long pant legs so he didn't stumble over them, he slowly and cautiously made his way down the stair to the cubby hole. Back to his old self, back to the silent and graceful cat.

This time when Leigh's eyes slowly pried open, he was startled by the absolute darkness of the "room." He had his knees drawn to his chest because that was all the space the cubby hole permitted, and in his tiny confinement he could not make out a damn thing. He squinted and blinked, unable to believe that he had slept until nightfall. When he kicked at the flimsy door that he had shut behind him, it swung open to reveal a swollen room, pulsing with the breath of the darkness. In his eyes struck a listless stare, that of the unprepared lamb at the slaughter. He slipped his mirror in the pocket of his pants and slid out of the small opening.

I shouldn't be doing this… he thought to himself, knowing very well what happened last time he ventured outside of the hiding place he should have stayed in. He didn't want to admit it, but he did acknowledge the feeling on a very basic level; he craved contact. Not just with the generic creatures the spawned out of the darkness, the nurses were interesting to say the least… once he ran into an armless creature held prisoner by a thin film of pink-grey skin. No, he knew somewhere, in the heart he hid in a growing blanket of hate, that it was the seven foot figure that he wanted to see. The executioner cursed him, and he thrived on the sight of the beast dragging his knife behind him like it was some kind of twisted addiction. He wasn't entirely sure his body could handle a second confrontation. Still, and he hated to use the analogy, Leigh was like the animal you just couldn't kill, no matter how many times or how hard you beat it.

He sidestepped across the floor, fully aware that anything could have been birthed out of the shadowed corners of the house. Each move he made was preceded by a gentle test. He pressed his foot lightly against the boards and listened acutely for any creaks they may dare to make. He avoided three dead giveaways before he was able to turn the stained doorknob that lead him to the streets outside. He stumbled out the door and took a desperate breath of the mist before descending the steps and wandering the streets. He searched, like Pyramid Head searched, but at the same time he had the disturbing feeling slithering in his gut that he was roaming over the belly of a sleeping beast.

Leigh began to worry, worry that he had been swallowed by the darkness and had not yet come to realize it. The choking ebony did not recede after ten minutes, half an hour. The longest he'd ever been trapped in the underlying world was just about an hour. Now it was going on two. He touched a door and it willingly swung open. He had wandered into the school, drifting the desiccated halls. The building vomited rotting stench, grew upon the weeping wounds that perpetually seeped blood. It seemed like the perfect place to reunite with the creature, albeit the first few areas seemed perfect as well.

The boy cocked his head to one side as an unnervingly familiar jingle washed over his mind. The soft ringing of a bell engulfed the hall with its ironically almost silent call. He stopped dead, pulling the mirror from his pocket. It was his bell, the one he had removed from his wrist and wrapped tightly in tissue before slipping it into his pocket. It hadn't even registered with him that it had not been in the pocket when he changed his clothes. For that… he felt horribly stupid, but there was no use fretting over it, because it was done with.

The jingle stopped.

Leigh sucked in a deep breath.

The jingle started.

It was a taunt, he knew it. Somewhere beneath the fear, he felt thrilled. Of course, there was the chance that some blundering fiend had come across it, found it interesting, and was jaunting down the corridors with it. That was unlikely, considering the way it would start and stop as though the holder knew it held some interest to somebody. He clutched his chest as it beat with excitement, the knowledge of who it may be crashing over him.

Gliding down the hall in his smooth, fluid motion, he trailed the faint sound. That is, until he heard the metallic wail of the Great Knife, at which point he broke into a run that closed him in on the origin of the sound. Around the corner a muscular body stood, poised with the bell wrapped in his palm. The metal prison tilted slowly and pointed in Leigh's direction. The boy approached deliberately, gently moving from heel to toe like a dancer in preparation of his best act. The Red Pyramid turned and jingled the bell, extending his arm in Leigh's direction as he did so. If he could see the face beneath the helm he knew it would be a wild, sharp-toothed grin. He reached into the soft confines of his pocket and removed the mirror. He didn't know why or for what purpose, but he did. A small trickle of light that illuminated the room just enough to see the tight pink scars and cuts that wound the beautiful creature's body. He flicked his wrist, trying to get the surface to catch the light. Eventually a small concentrated patch of light settled on the executioner's chest. He must have felt it, because he jerked to the side. Leigh continued to approach the beast he felt an illogical affection for, until he was a few feet from the immense creature. Pyramid Head's grip on his knife tightened, and he made a quick move forward but did not follow through with his swing. He stopped so Leigh's nose was inches before the tight ribs, his breath spilling out over the executioner's sickly dead skin. Tremors seemed to bolt down his limbs. He was unsure what would happen next. In his hand he clutched the mirror so tight that it made deep impressions in his hand. Tilting it slightly, he looked up at the looming figure, shining a tiny oval of light on the underside of the metal pyramid. He was breathless, and if he had had the desire to speak, he would have been speechless. The metal was thick, heavy. He could not imagine that burden.

Then Leigh's eyes stopped, and he squinted above him at the helm of the motionless creature. A small circular mound was set near the base of the neck with a slot for the insertion of a key. He drank the information for a few seconds, savouring it. He felt a desire leap up in him like a painful, scorching flame to see the face behind the mask, however beautiful or misshapen it may be. A few seconds passed. When Leigh looked back, he would realize the whole encounter would have lasted a minute, maximum. Only a few seconds passed. And after that, Pyramid Head seemed to reconsider his previous action and swung the weighted knife forward. Leigh bent backwards and landed in agony on his tail bone, but the fear of the giant fiend barrelling towards him was motivation enough for him to turn on his elbows and crawl towards the way he came. Gradually he nimbly got back to his feet and pumped his legs until they felt like the knife had sliced him from the thigh to the knee. He kept running. He ran into the streets and past the dark outlines lurching around in aimless agony. He ran until he collapsed in an alley behind a trashcan.

This time when Leigh woke up, the darkness had receded to whatever pit of Hell had vomited it up. He placed his palms on the ground and tried to prop himself up, but they slid forward in the thick, oozing mud that he had passed out in. He slumped back into it, a brown smear running the length of his body. He didn't care, though, it was trivial compared to what clogged his mind. He didn't even notice that the surreal light now lazily seeped through the streets until a few minutes had passed. He wondered why no one had ever, ever brought up the key to the pyramid. Then he mentally slapped himself.

Of course they didn't tell me. Those who knew about it had no benefit in flaunting the information, especially if it lead to the creature's release. On the other hand, aside from those who most likely knew it from the town's history, no one knew because, in all honesty, who had gotten close enough to the executioner? Leigh ran his muddy hand over his face, double checking his existence. It suddenly hit him how fortunate he had been, that he limped away from two encounters with Pyramid Head in relatively good condition.

He slumped against the cold brick wall, the thick cotton of his shirt no longer comforting. The mud had penetrated the fibres and caked his clothing, so he sat and shivered. He'd start a fire, but he had no materials and it wasn't the best idea considering it would attract the attention of humans and creatures alike. Instead he fell into deep thought, pulling a memory out of a little box he kept locked away.

When Leigh was a boy, probably around the time he impaled his foot on the old nail, he had been playing around the church. When the adults marvelled at how silent and graceful he was, unlike the other bumbling children, he felt encouraged. He would practice his stealth because it was one thing he was good at. That night, he had his arms outstretched along the walls and his back placed firmly against it, he would slide his left foot along the crease and his right would follow. And, as a child, he would continue this gliding motion until he had covered the entire interior perimeter of the church without making a single noise. Halfway through his exercise, however, his left foot had felt a slightly uneven "outdent" in the flooring that had not been there before. It wasn't unusual for the flooring to be imperfect, after all the floor was laid down by devoted fanatics some century ago and the maintenance hadn't been top shape. But this bothered Leigh, because it was so glaringly obvious that he would have noticed this phantom bump before. He got on his hands and knees and traced his fingertips around the square raised platform that would have been camouflaged to any other passerby. He placed his weight on it and the platform shifted downwards like it had not been properly put in place. He removed a screw driver from his pocket, the pocket that held a great deal too many things to explain, and he slipped the flat head into the crack running the length of the square and tried to pry it up. The first six or so times the wooden piece would raise an inch or so and then fall hopelessly back into place. On his last try he was becoming impatient and he slammed down on the end of the tool. The plastic handle broke off, but he had succeeded in wedging the metal in such a way that the platform was now in a position to be removed. He gripped the edges and hoisted it up, throwing his weight against it to slide it aside. The light from the church illuminated the room beneath just enough to see a shabby dirt ground and chests with locked drawers. Leigh swung his legs over the edge and knocked them around until he hit a ladder.

The interior of the room was quite boring to Leigh, mostly lined with wooden constructs that kept things locked within their bowels. The boy observed the room as he gently descended the ladder, testing each rung for stability as he did so. Then, as he narrowed his eyes and tried to focus in the pathetic light, he noticed something that caught his eye.

A wall of keys.

He contained his excitement and continued his reserved downward climb until he hit the ground. Then he rushed up to the wall and looked in awe at the vast collection of keys, each with their own hook, each glinting or rusty, depending on the age. It was beautiful to him. Like someone had dug up treasure and nailed it to the wall just for Leigh. He reached his small hand up, about to brush his fingertips against a relatively new key when he heard a shout bounce into the room from the level above. His hand shot back protectively to his chest when he saw a woman in an old-fashioned, blue dress and pinned-back mousy brown, curly hair slowly make her way down the ladder. It bothered him the way her movements seemed snake-like in nature.

"What are you doing down here, Leigh?" she said in her smooth voice, her thin face renting a sweet smile. He hated that smile. It always seemed to have some underlying intention, an ulterior motive. As he grew older and saw the people she burned, he recognized that smile to be one of malice. But, to a child, it was merely hiding something.

He kicked the ground, shuffling his feet around.

"I said, what are you doing here?" her tone became firm, harsh.

"I…" Leigh felt like tears were going to spill over his face any moment. "I was playing, and I-" he sniffled, the liquid flowing freely down his cheeks. "I found this room," he tried to explain.

"How did you find something that was supposed to be hidden?" her voice was stripped of the cold that had occupied it earlier, but it didn't make the boy feel any better.

"The floor was funny," he choked out as he wept into his dirty palms.

"I see…" she said, more to herself than to Leigh. She motioned for another man that Leigh had seen on occasion during prayer to come over to her. He had come down the ladder just a few moments before. She turned her head to the side and whispered something so low that even the boy's sharp ears could not pick up the entirety of it. Something about being more careful. She bent down and Leigh tensed up, certain she was going to slap him. Instead she said, in a low and almost threatening tone, "This is a grown-up's room, and you are not allowed in here. If you tell the other children about this, you will be punished." She stood up again. "Now run along, it's past your bedtime."

He solemnly placed his hands on the ladder, and started his climb.

Now, teeth-chattering and alone, Leigh realized what that room really was. Every secret Christabella kept would have been locked in drawers or hung on the wall of that hole. If he was to find that key, it would be in there. And if it wasn't in that room, it wouldn't be anywhere. He got to his feet and briefly wondered why he was going to such lengths to free a fiend that had raped and tried to kill him. Then, as he peered around the trashcan, he conceived that neither was really true.

The stairs to the church spread out like ripples on a pond, and he got a sick plummeting feeling in his stomach when he placed his foot on the first. He stepped around dry leaves that would give away his presence as he moved towards the large wooden doors in the dead of night. He had sat on a park bench and planned his actions very carefully, diligently awaiting nightfall. Now he was there, before the giant entrance that would have seemed like half a home yesterday. He leaned against the crevice where they joined and pushed gently, noting the distance he opened. When the door swung about three feet it made a creaking noise, so he was gauging his distance to avoid that. He knew he would have to slide along the walls like he did as a child because the floor boards, too, had a habit of squeaking near the centre of the floor. It all worked in his advantage, the trap door was along his path.

He immediately suctioned to the wall, glancing over his shoulder to check and see if the kerosene lamp someone had brought in a few days ago was still there. It was, hanging on the wall opposite to trap door, unfortunately. It looks like someone took the liberty of moving farther away.

Great…

Leigh resolved that he would just have to move in a full counter clockwise motion and pick up what he could along the way. He took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself to be able to do what he had done several years ago, under half his current body weight.

When he reached the platform, something so obvious to him now, he squatted down on his haunches and positioned the crowbar he found during his search of the perimeter. It was funny how even in the dark he could now see the outline of the square, he could see the obtrusive line it made, yet everyone passed it by. People walked on it, walked by it, prayed next to it, played next to it… And it existed to hide whatever desperate secrets this Holy woman tried so hard to keep. He felt a small lurch in his stomach, but continued to work the trap door.

The square raised and slid to the side. Leigh cringed as it made a light scraping noise. He understood he was being paranoid, but it was much, much better safe than dead. Forget about sorry. He didn't move it much, only about eleven inches, plenty of room to slip his thin torso in. He felt the heel of his foot catch the ladder and he steadied himself on it, pulling the square back over his head after he pulled the lamp into the depths of the room after him. He was not going to make the same tell-tale mistake he did as a child.

A fierce light washed over the room when Leigh skilfully lit it. Holding it above his head, he moved it so the shadows of the keys danced and twisted against the crude walls. He felt chilled in the eerie place, it was so poorly made that it could have been constructed by the creatures it kept out. He made sure the light filled every corner, checking thoroughly that there was nothing to jump at him when his back turned. Approaching the wall with a slightly different revere than he had as a kid, his eyes widened as he tried to take in the vast numbers of keys.

It probably isn't even hanging on the wall.

He turned to look at the beastly drawers that contained all the secrets that should probably never have existed. Fruitlessly, he tried to pull at one of the drawers, knowing very well that it was locked. He looked at the wall; it would be pointless to try the keys. They were most likely for the houses and shops, some of the old skeletons would be for locks long gone. No, there would be no point in locking something away if you kept the key in the open. Leigh knew Christabella, she would not leave it to chance that the person would not come across it on the wall. She probably kept it with her. He felt that if worse came to worse, and he was sure that she had the thin piece of metal that would unlock Pyramid Head, he would take the key from her himself and rummage through these drawers. But for now, it was best to work with what was at hand.

The key will be old, he reasoned. Still, he sighed and dropped his head. Even then he had no clue what he was looking for, he leaned forward and started to inspect each one, resolving that he would not take anything unless he was positive. If he had really been thinking, he would have found something in one of the houses to replace a key with so it wasn't so obvious one was missing from the perfect grid.

After he finished methodically inspecting each of the old skeleton keys, he sat down with his back against the cool wall. It must have taken an hour at least, and if any of the keys were it, there was absolutely no way of differentiating them. As he bent forward and pulled his knees to his chest, out of the corner of his eye he spotted a small wire.

Leigh shoved the mangled metal into the last keyhole, twisting it gently until he heard the muffled click. He pulled the drawer out and rifled through the contents, finding no key. He had picked every single lock and not one of the hiding places contained a key. It's not that none of them contained the key, but none of them contained a key. He felt like a man must after he had been whipped. Looking at the chests, he realized he would have to relock each one of them. Heaving his body forward, he bent to his knees, rearranged everything in the drawer neatly again, and slid the wire in until he heard a click.

The boy continued this process until he sat beside the second set of drawers, bringing his kerosene lamp that swayed with the shadows to his side. He glanced casually to the left as he begun the gruelling task of covering his tracks once more, and noticed something strange. While this wall was made of sloppily thrown together bricks that were quite uneven, one brick alone jutted out at an angle and cast a long shadow. He left his drawer half sticking out with the wire still inserted and inspected the out of place brick. Part of it jutted out a good three inches. He gripped the brick between his thumb and index finger and gave it a firm tug. Nothing. He tried again. This time the brick moved a fraction of an inch. It was a difficult task considering the angle it had been shoved in at. By the fifth jerk he had bent part of his fingernail back. His eyes welled in response to the pulsing pain, but he continued to yank the brick until it simply popped out of the wall. He held the lamp to the small rectangular opening and peered inside. It was dark, but his eyes widened with hope. He could see relatively fresh cobwebs that had been destroyed by the presence of someone's hand. He gingerly reached inside, managing to slide it in up to his armpit. He felt nothing but air for a good few swipes, then he turned his attention to the ground beneath him, running his fingertips over the dirt. He searched blindly until they grazed something smooth and cold. He wrapped his hand around it immediately, as if he were scared that something would snatch it away a moment later if he didn't. He positioned it so it could be pulled through the small window.

It was a small box, a small locked box. He tilted it to inspect the hole, it looked quite similar to the ones on the drawers so he scrambled around on the dirty floor to find the wire. A moment of panic latched onto his skull and didn't let go. He couldn't find it. His hands flew in a flurry of dirt before he raised his head and saw it inches from his eye, right where he had left it. He grabbed the wire and regained his composure, and, bringing the box into his lap, dug it inside. It was tricky, it didn't seem as though anyone had opened it for a very long time, just checked to make sure it was there. Eventually, though, the tiny mechanics sprung to life and the lid tilted open. Leigh had closed his eyes and prepared himself for disappointment, but when he looked inside he saw a long silver key with a thick circular base. Inscribed on it was a complicated symbol -- essentially a circle with a triangle inscribed within it. It trembled in his hands so violently that the image shook. He had to catch the yelp that threatened to jump out of his throat, then he looked around to make sure even the walls would bear no witness, and slipped it into his pocket. He didn't notice the pressure he felt until a single drop of sweat dove to the ground from the tip of his nose. He pulled himself straight, standing tall in the flickering light. He took the lamp and held it before his face, slowly dimming the light until nothing but a red ember played across his cheeks. Then dark.

Leigh cracked the door, slowly, wrenching his hands into the gap as to widen it. He smiled subtly to himself. He'd left the trap door slightly open, tipped to the side. It was intentional, of course. He wanted the people of the church to know something was being swallowed. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he also wanted Christabella to feel the same blind panic he felt. He wanted her to scramble and writhe when she pulled out the brick to see if the key was there. And with that, he slipped out the door and headed off to find a new home until the darkness came.


End file.
